Bite Your Tongue
by heartbreakersworth
Summary: Tristan's already "moved on" or so to speak, and Miles couldn't be any unhappier.
1. Chemistry

Miles trudged over to his locker, looking down at the box at his feet as he approached it. His heart sank with guess, but his mind cluttered with confusion as he opened it. Typical. He thought to himself, biting his lip to stop it from quivering. He could barely look at all the little trinkets and photos in the box without wanting to scream. He threw the box into his locker, pictures, magnets and little origami figures he had previously made for Tristan spilling out as he slammed the locker door and leaned against it.

Miles's eyes immediately snapped over to Tristan's locker, and the sight nearly knocked him clean off his feet. His dark brown hair defined each and every feature of him more. His eyes looked like ice, and the reds in his plush lips were brought out more. Those plush lips that Miles wished could be his again.. Miles shook his head, attempting to snap out of it. He was dressed in all black, with none other than a red jacket Miles fondly remembered he had left at Tristan's house.

His heart wrenched when Tristan spun around, but that's when he realized he was staring. He peeked around Tristan only to see someone new. It didn't matter who the hell he was, Tristan's hands were flying all over on him. Miles was ready to pounce in and beat the crap out of him, but he was fully aware that if he did, Tristan would only despise him more. Miles clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms.

_No._

"Awe, come on... we can skip out on chemistry. It's not like we have any trouble with it." Tristan hissed the last part, just loud enough for Miles to hear over the loud hum of feet moving and short hallway conversations. His stomach contorted as his heart ached. The new kid (or predetermined douchebag, by Miles) placed a longing kiss on Tristan's lips, which he returned aggressively, pulling him in by the collar of his shirt. Miles scoffed, disgusted. He shoved his chem textbook into his bag before rushing off to the classroom.

Miles glared at the empty seat beside him, sighing heavily. Why was he even hoping for him to show up? He sighed, tapping his pen against his paper, creating small red dots. He glanced up quickly at the clock, realizing chem was nearly over, before back down at the doorway, where his eyes met with Tristan's. Tristan stared him down from squinting eyes, adjusting his bag to show a forming bruise on his neck. He glided across the room, sitting down next to Miles without saying a word. All he did was cast him a small, shit-eating smirk.

"What the hell are you doing?" Miles questioned, even though he already knew the answer damn well.

"Living my life. Is there a problem, Hollingsworth?" Tristan gave a cocky pout.

Miles glared at him for a second before looking down. That's what he wanted, for Tristan to just live his life without him. But... That evil look in Tristan's eyes, the flames under the ice, was telling him differently. "No. None at all." Miles answered in an unintentionally dark tone, before giving him a weak grin.


	2. Under The Gun

That night, Miles found himself laying in bed, beating himself up over everything. He still was in shock that he had let Tristan walk away, but that shock ran deeper into jealously, that someone else could fill his spot so quickly. It wasn't that he wanted Tristan to be heart broken over him, in fact, he wanted Tristan to feel the least pain as possible. But seeing him holding that guy, seeing how eager he was to get hot and heated in the hallway had Miles in a position where all he could do was watch. He didn't want Tristan to leave, but he couldn't have be cruel enough to make him stay. Maybe him moving on was for the better, but Miles refused to accept that.

Miles pulled his comforter over his head, which he could smell the traces of warm vanilla body spray on, or the more familiar name - Tristan. He felt pathetic, holding onto every little detail he could of him, but if he were to let go he'd break completely. He was already cracking, and it's not like no one has noticed. He's either high or moping, or running from his father. Or all three. Alone and pathetic. That's right, he let the last person who cared about him run away.

Miles breathed in one last time, getting lost in his thoughts before drifting off to sleep.

You use and abuse people and one day you're going to wake up and realize you have no one.

"I don't have anyone anymore." Miles whispered to himself before drifting off.

* * *

><p>Miles was woken up the next morning by the sound of yelling. <em>Soothing.<em>

He looked up, only to feel his father's hands gripping on the material of his tank top. He barely had any time to react before being forced out of bed.

"I thought I told you. No more skipping." He growled. Miles took a deep breath, swallowing the words in his mouth. He nearly flinched, seeing his father's hand hurdling towards his face.

"Yeah, that's right. Hit me. It's the only way you can feel like you can keep control, isn't it?" Miles cocked his eyebrow, a smug grin spreading across his face. "I deserve it, right? For being a disappointment? I'm not sure how the press will react to knowing-" His father pulled him closer. "The mayor-to-be is... well..." He gestured over to his father's clenched fist. "You." And with that, he was dropped. Miles tried to catch his breath, choking with every one he took in. He had no clue he had it in him.

Miles waited for his father to stomp out of earshot. Once he did, Miles nearly broke down, but collected himself before he could. He pulled a leather jacket on, not remembering if it was his or not, along with some black skinny jeans. Black. Like his father's cowardly soul. The same smug smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he grabbed his lighter, shoving it into his pocket.

* * *

><p>Miles smirked, strolling into the English classroom, feeling a certain icy glare on him. His eyes shot to the back of the room, only to see those blue eyes staring back. He sat down right in front of him.<p>

A tap on his shoulder made him spin around. "Hmm?" He hummed, avoiding the brunette's eyes.

"I can't see the board." Tristan said simply, searching Miles's eyes for something. Anything. No, Miles was too good at hiding everything to let him see.

"You sure you're not trying to stare at the teacher?" Miles couldn't stop himself. He regretted saying it the moment the words left his lips.

Tristan's nostrils flared with anger before socking Miles straight in the face, admitting an echo that wasn't actually that loud, but to Miles it sounded like the entire world could hear it.

"Now, if you excuse me..." Tristan said, quickly typing a reply to his buzzing phone. He rushed out of the room almost instantly. Miles held his cheek, still in shock. Not that he had been slapped, no, but that he could say something like that. It took him little to no thought to start rushing after Tristan.

* * *

><p>Tristan felt himself being pushed up against his locker, too fast for him to process. His lips were doing all the work, pulling the other boy into a fit of fast and heated kisses. His lover's- No, this boy was not a lover. This boy was purely here to be a distraction. His hands were moving lower and lower before reaching his belt.<p>

"No... just not, not here..."

"Aw, come on babe..." His... friend with benefits? mumbled against his neck. Tristan shivered, feeling the hot breath against his neck.

"No." Tristan said, raising his voice and pushing the boy off of him.

The boy pushed Tristan against the locker, pushing his lips on Tristan's. "But..." His hands traveled down to Tristan's waist.

"He said no, dammit!" Miles said, rushing down the hall, pushing the boy off of Tristan faster than he could think.

"And who the hell are you..." The boy growled, before feeling a fist hurled into his abdomen. "Why do you care about someone as pathetic as him?"

It took Miles every ounce of will power not to snap his neck right then and there.

"No..." Miles growled, pulling the boy closer to him by his collar. "You're pathetic if you think you deserve someone like him." He threw the boy to the ground, getting up before watching him scurry away. "And me?" Miles called after him. "I'm Miles motherfucking Hollingsworth."

Tristan looked up at Miles with a mixture of shock and a bit of relief.

"Look, Tristan, I'm so sor-"

"Save it. You'll need to." Tristan muttered in the strongest tone he could muster, before he started shaking. He was still angry at Miles, but... He was glad he came when he did. This time, he had someone to stop him from doing something he'd regret later.

Why can't anything just be simple...? Tristan asked himself before running from the hall, into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him before sliding down it. _He was supposed to distract me..._ The tears that were building up started flooding down his face. _Instead... I ended up... being... saved by him. Dammit._ Tristan slammed his fist against the wood of the door. "Dammit Miles... Why can't you just..." He wanted to say to stop, but he wasn't sure if he wanted that.

* * *

><p><span><strong>shit:<strong>** I'm putting BYT on here just as some motivation to continue it. On tumblr, well... I'd literally only continue with gifs because I'm a lazy piece of shit but on here it's words everywhere and it just makes me feel more organized... IDEK.**


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